Tuesday, April 28, 2015

I love the expression, “It floored me.” That’s probably
because parenting floors me. All the time. One moment my daughter floors me by
saying the wisest thing I can imagine. The next she floors me again by
following it with a stunningly childish refusal to eat (anything, ever). Or so
it seems.

A few months ago, she floored me when she responded exactly
as I imagine my father would have. She reminds me of the sense of right and
fairness my father taught me. I have long since buried that sense under a
cynical brand of pragmatism that doubles as a shield to any blow the world
hands me.

About a boy in her class she said, “He pinches me when we
line up and I don’t like that.”

“So what can you do about it? What choices do you have?”

“None.”

“None? You could step out of line. You can tell him to stop.
Use your words.”

“Mommy, I tried using words. He doesn’t stop.”

“Why do you stand near him?”

“Well, I like to be at the front of the line. So does he.” A
very clear picture of The US Congress immediately comes across my mind.

“Is being at the front of the line worth getting pinched?
You could stand somewhere else.” When I was a child, this solution would have
been obvious to me. The front is a battle not worth fighting.

“Mommy, that’s not fair. I should be allowed to stand
anywhere in line without worrying about being pinched.” In her words, I heard
echoes of my father, for whom the time and place for for justice were always
right now and right here. At first, I worried that she will never manage in a
world constantly demanding compromise.

What message am I sending her?

Should a woman have to worry about what she wears when she
goes out, lest she ask to be raped? Should a woman endure catcalls on the
sidewalk simply for walking? Should a woman fear walking under a street light
with a blown bulb? Should a girl walk through a high school hallway wearing a
backpack so her bra strap isn’t snapped? Should a child hand over her lunch
money to a bully?

Anyone should be allowed to wear what they want to, when
they want to, wherever they want to.
Moreover, no woman should worry that someone will blame her if some harm
befalls her when she does.

At five, Ellie knows that her safety in the world is a basic
human right and expectation. I hope I never teach her that the victim should
have or could have anticipated their treatment. What’s more terrifying is that
I think I almost did.